


Of Injuries and Inquires

by smvtslvt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, epilogue divergent, explicit for later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-08 22:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4323270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smvtslvt/pseuds/smvtslvt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ginny suddenly finds herself with excess downtime, she decides to explore new options to fill it. She wasn't expecting, however, one of those options to be Draco Malfoy. Now she must choose between her long-time paramour and her childhood bully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

"Careful!" gasped Molly Weasley as Ginny hoisted herself up off her cot and into a wheelchair. She couldn't exactly blame her mother; Molly had always been protective of her children and it had only strengthened ten fold in the past four years, but her moaning and blathering on did little help when Ginny was in serious pain. Her father, on the other hand, swung her arm over his shoulder and helped her slowly sink into the chair.

"Mum," she bit out, pausing to take a slow breath and even her tone, "really, I'm fine." The long inhale burned at her side like hot knives but it was really better for everyone if she remained calm. She added, "you guys didn't have to see me off."

Ginny had been at St. Mungos for three days now, having been the recipient of a rogue bludger in her last match with Puddlemere United and breaking two ribs. The first day had been a fight, both insisting to the mediwizards that she preferred to heal naturally and struggling with journalists for her privacy. The second day was supposed to be about monitoring and relaxation, but between the pain, healers constantly poking at her side, and a visit from every Weasley there ever was, Ginny didn't get much sleep.

Hermione and Ron visited first and stayed the longest, Hermione mostly gushing over Ron's success in Auror training. They were followed by Bill and Fleur, who couldn't stay long, having their one year old daughter and an almost four year old Teddy Lupin in tow. Percy was next, along with Charlie, and George was last, bringing with him a vast array of new product to try on the nurse staff. She had enjoyed his visit the most. Neville sent flowers, apologizing for his absence and hoping Ginny could understand his wariness for St. Mungos, and Luna sent what appeared to be a cross between a dream catcher and a collage of pressed weeds, claiming protection over her spirit while her weakened body healed. Surprisingly, she hadn't heard a peep from Harry. "

Nonsense!" cried Mrs. Weasley, adjusting her grasp of Ginny's belongings.

Arthur ruffled her hair softly, "of course we did, button. Need to make sure you get settled in alright." He poised himself at the back of her wheelchair and smiled down at her comfortingly. "Now then. Are you ready to head home?"

Ginny had never been more ready for anything else in her life. As sweet as her company had been and as nice as the staff of St. Mungos had treated her, she was just looking forward to being back in her own bed. She hadn't had a second to herself since the incident. Looking back on it, she hadn't really even had a second to herself since she joined with the Harpies. Yes, some peace and quiet was all she needed.

Maybe her mother sensed it too, because the three of them walked (or was wheeled, in Ginny's case) to the lobby in comfortable silence. They stopped in front of the massive stone fireplace while a mediwitch in eye-appalling green robes came to see them off. "Remember, take it easy. No fast movements, no lifting, no apparition, and absolutely NO flying," she instructed as Arthur helped Ginny up out of the chair. "Visit us in two weeks and we'll see if we can get started on your physical therapy."

"Yes, m'am," Ginny set a reassuring smile on her lips, though who she was trying to convince, she wasn't sure.

In response, the neon-clad witch held out a small bowl of shimmering silver powder. "Get well soon, dear."

Scooping up a decent handful, Ginny tossed the Floo powder into the flame and watched it turn the same bright shade of green. She cleared her throat, spoke her address, and she and Arthur climbed inside.

Ginny hadn't realized they were at their gate until they lurched forward with a tug of her arm and Arthur was pulling her steadily to her feet. Ginny's stomach churned upon landing and she wondered briefly if it was because of her ribs or just motion sickness. She didn't have much time to dwell on it as Molly came tumbling out after them, bumping into her husband in the process.

"It's alright!" Molly announced, straightening up, "At least I didn't squish your flowers! Let's get these into some fresh water, shall we?" she added as she headed for the kitchen.

"Would you like me to help you sit down, princess?" asked her father.

Ginny shook her head, "honestly, I was laying in that cot for so long, it feels nice to stand."

"Would you like me to fix you a sandwich?" her mother called from the other room.

Ginny sighed, seemingly annoyed, but inwardly thankful. "Really, guys, I'm okay. I'm going to take it easy and I'll Floo you if I need anything. But I have to rest if I'm going to make it to supper on Sunday, yeah?"

That seemed to be an acceptable answer to Molly as she strode back into the room, nodding, a large vase of Neville's daisies in her hands. "If you're sure, Ginny, dear. Just let me put these in your room for you."

"Mum." Ginny held out her hands and Molly reluctantly handed her the vase.

She pressed her lips to her daughter's cheek, "Floo us if you need anything at all."

"Feel better, pumpkin," Arthur said, mirroring a kiss on her other side.

"See you Sunday," Ginny said in soft dismissal. She watched them go, waving with her free hand until the green fire turned back to a dying orange flicker.

"Home, at last," she said to herself.

It was nearly exactly as she had left it about a month ago, before the Harpies had left for their season tour. Tidier, perhaps. Hermione must've been straightening up during her house-sitting visits. But still, there were her trophies, her knitted afghan thrown over the back of the couch. There was her family, hooting excitedly for her safe return from their frames along the wall. Awkwardly balancing the flowers in the crook of her arm, she moved to hang Luna's gift in a blank space next to her favorite picture of Fred and George.

"Miss you," she told the portrait, as she pushed a tack through the drywall. Her brother gleamed back at her in response.

"Now. To find a spot for you." Ginny padded towards her office, choosing not to focus on the dull, radiating ache in her abdomen, but instead, how lovely the daisies would look on her desk.

That is, if she could find it. She stopped in the doorway at the sight of papers and envelopes threatening to spill over the edge of her desk. The clutter was stacked probably ten centimeters high, and, oh Merlin, was it vibrating? She rushed forward, as fast as her pain would allow, and set down the flowers to start sifting through the stack. As her fingers passed over a thick red envelope, her fears were confirmed. She had barely enough time to make out the name, Gwenog Jones, before the howler opened its wide mouth.

"Ginny Weasley!" it shouted in her captain's booming voice, "only you could go and get yourself benched a month before the Cup! What're we supposed to do without you?! I've got the League reviewing PU's beaters for foul play, don't you worry! If I hear you're doing anything that offsets your healing, I'll beat you with a bludger myself! Get well soon, Weasley! The girls send their love!"

She blushed as the envelope tore itself to shreds. It was sweet of Gwen to think of her but she knew that was just the beginning of the merciless teasing she would get from her team. Well, she thought, now was a good a time as any to sort through her post.

Ginny had decided on three piles: to answer as soon as possible, to answer eventually, and to ignore. The first category was mostly letters from close friends and, unfortunately, bills to pay. The second pile held all of her fan mail. Ginny chose not to entertain any gossip rags or coupons, instead chucking them right in the trash. Her fan mail was by far the most plentiful, and honestly, it was a bit intimidating. I'll get around to these, for certain, she thought as she stuffed the second pile into a desk drawer. There. That one little stack was far more manageable.

Ginny picked up the first envelope, quite official looking with eggshell paper and swirly purple ink. In the corner it read:

_Mr. Barnabas Cuffe_  
_Editor In Chief_  
_Daily Prophet_  
_Diagon Alley_

She stuck one short nail under the flap and tore it open hastily. The letter was on the same thick parchment, in the same midnight script.

_Ms. Weasley,_

_So sorry to hear of your injury. I think I speak for most of our readers when I say I'm not alone. While your healing is very important to everyone, we hope you agree that your fans are awaiting your news with bated breath. We would love to help you on that matter. Please respond the very second you are feeling up for it and we will work on scheduling an interview with you._

_All the best!_  
_Barnabas Cuffe_  
_Editor In Chief_

Chewing at a bit of skin on her lower lip, Ginny read the letter a second and a third time. Was she ready to do an interview so quickly? Maybe, if they came to her. It's not like she was doing anything with her time, anyway. And the sooner she put the word out, the sooner she would get her peace and quiet.

Ginny was digging around for some spare parchment when she heard a distinctive pop from the main room. "Hullo?" called a familiar voice, "Gin? You here?"

"Harry Potter!" she returned, wincing as she lifted herself out of the chair. "Don't you know not to sneak up on a girl?!"

She heard his laughter get louder as he made his way towards her office. "Least of all, you and your bat bogey hex."

Harry paused in the doorway, just long enough to flash her a dazzling smile, before running to her and scooping her up in his arms. For a second, the pain was almost worth it. His hands gripping the small of her back and his lips at her ear, it was like home. But Ginny couldn't hide her pained gasp. Harry faltered and released her. "Oh, Gin, I'm so sorry! I - did I hurt you?"

"Not as bad as I would've hurt you, had you not come and seen me!" Her words were menacing but her lips were plastered with a teasing smile. "You really had me worried in the hospital."

"I'm really sorry about that. You know how hard it is to get out of school."

"But you're here now," she offered softly.

"I am." Ginny found her heart fluttering as one side of his mouth picked up in a grin. "Had to come see my best girl."

Tension curled her stomach, nearly obscuring the pain in her side. How long had it been since she last saw Harry? Months, at least.

"I thought Hermione was your best girl," she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, well, I think she's Ron's best girl now."

It was true. The two had just recently announced their engagement. They had spent every day together as a couple for the last four years, since that fateful day of war. Ron had even come to visit her when Hermione returned to Hogwarts, and she had often snuck into Auror School to stay with him. Ginny was constantly berated by her mother for not having that sort of relationship with Harry. It wasn't for lack of trying, in her defense - hell, Harry still tried on occasion – but they had agreed it wasn't the right time in their lives for that. Ginny spent all of the Quidditch season on tour with the Holyhead Harpies, and Harry was busy with his training year-round. Their schedules left no room for romance.

"What happened?" He asked, reaching out to gingerly touch her abdomen.

"A rather rough bludger, you know how it goes."

He nodded. "May I see?" Harry asked, though he was already rolling up the worn cotton of her t-shirt.

Ginny pinned her shirt to her chest with one hand, allowing Harry's fingers to explore her bruised skin.

The visible black lace of her bra made his face hot. He wanted to press his lips against it. Instead, Harry's hand carefully brushed over her side. The skin was purple and blue and it masked any trace of her freckles. Harry missed those freckles at night.

A pained grimace set itself on Ginny's thin lips.

"I shouldn't keep you," she said at last. "I wouldn't want you to get into trouble." Her voice was soft, honest, as she added, "I'm really glad you came to visit me today. I've missed you." "

Take care of yourself," he insisted, pressing a quick kiss to her sweeping red hair. "I don't want to hear any more of this injury stuff, okay?"

Her mind lingered briefly on his lips but the loud pop of his apparition brought Ginny back to the present. What was it she was doing? Oh yes, the letter. She sighed and settled carefully back at her desk. With her quill dipped in crimson ink and her hand poised over clean parchment, she began to write.

_Mr. Cuffe,_

_Thank you for both your interest and your well-wishes. It is very important to me that the Harpies fans know what's going on. My schedule is clear tomorrow, Friday the eighteenth, so if you would simply like to send over one of your journalists, my floo line is always open. If another time is better, please let me know. I am open._

_Sincerely,_  
_Ginerva Weasley_

The parchment was folded neatly and tucked away inside an envelope addressed to Barnabus Cuffe, Editor In Chief of the Daily Prophet. It was sealed with gold wax, pressed in the shape of quaffle.

Ginny stood and moved slowly towards the large cage in the corner of her office. She pulled back the covering and a small barn owl clucked at her in greeting. She opened the door and extended her arm for his perch. As he climbed up her arm and onto her shoulder, she fastened the letter to his leg with a gold ribbon.

"Get this to Mr. Cuffe at the Prophet, would you?"

The bird nuzzled her chin with its feathered head before taking off out the open window.


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny spent her morning realizing just how much she had taken her abled body for granted. From the second she woke up, pushing herself up slowly in bed, she had hurt. In the shower, she turned to keep her left side out of the spray and struggled to shampoo her thick hair with one hand. She forced herself determinedly through dressing, finally wiggling into a pair of khakis and a Harpy jersey she often wore to practice, but she gave up halfway through her tidying and grabbed her wand.

It was probably for the better, Ginny realized, casting scourgify at the cobwebbed corners of her home. It was nearly noon and she had scheduled her interview for one in her correspondence with Mr. Cuffe.

Her flat wasn't terribly dirty, merely unused. Most of her mess came from her attempt to get ready this morning, makeup and rejected outfits strewn about the bathroom. Still, Ginny was thankful for her magic as the clock ticked closer to her interview time.

The appreciation dissipated a bit when she finished fifteen 'til. With nothing to keep her attention, Ginny found herself getting nervous. She was no stranger to the press, especially the Daily Prophet, but circumstances were different. Normally, they'd grab her just after a game, while she and the entire team were adrenaline pumped. Never had they come into her home.

Nonsense, Ginny argued to herself, you've done this a thousand times. You know every Quidditch correspondent quite well and no one is going to throw trick questions at you. There's nothing to be worried about.

Still, she paced. Walking in circles around her living room, she continued worrying until her hearth erupted in emerald flame. One o'clock on the dot.

Ginny was surprised to see a young brunette witch step out of her fireplace. Normally a squat, pleasant man by the name of Albert conducted her interviews. He was a sports editor and Ginny was quite fond of their repartee. This wasn't boding well for her nerves.

"Ms. Weasley! A pleasure!" The woman had a smug air about her as she rushed forward, extending her hand for Ginny to shake. "I'm Balinda Hoopert, with the Daily Prophet!" Her excitement was near condescending and suddenly, it all clicked. Balinda was the main opinion editor, a prodigy of Rita Skeeter, with the same long, hooked nose and acid green quill. Ginny had never met her, personally, but she had laughed long and hard at Harry's impersonations of the woman after his interviews. Ginny smiled warmly and made a mental note to watch what she said around that Quik-Quotes quill.

"Thank you, and welcome! Would you like to have a seat?"

Balinda flicked her wrist dismissively. She was busy eyeing Ginny's home, the quill already scribbling away at enchanted parchment as she took note of the family portrait wall. "If you don't mind, I'd rather wait for my photographer. He should be along any second."

Here's hoping, Ginny mused, feeling more nervous under the scrutiny of her guest.

As if on cue, the fireplace once again erupted in emerald flame.

"There he is!" cried Balinda, "right on time!"

Ginny stepped forward, hand extended, to greet the man emerging from the fire. Instead, she was met with a soft click, mechanical whirring, and a blinding flash of light. Ginny stumbled, reaching for the mantle as bright spots danced in her vision.

"Oh, so sorry," Balinda announced, somewhat unconvincingly, as Ginny steadied herself. "This is my photographer-"

Her vision had cleared, the spots leaving her to set sights on a tall, slim blonde with a camera and an unapologetic smirk. "Draco Malfoy," Ginny said, "a sight for sore eyes."

"Careful, Weasley," he returned, casually, "you wouldn't want to break a hip as well."

This had to be some sort of joke. This snide woman was a Pygmy Puff in comparison to Malfoy. The walls felt as if they were closing in, shrinking smaller and smaller as the pair stood by and undoubtedly judged her. Ginny looked around briefly, waiting for George to pop out and yell surprise. No such luck.

"You know each other?" Balinda asked, an eyebrow raised in intrigue.

"We went to school together," they answered together in something just awkwardly off-unison.

"How adorable!" The witch clasped her hands together. "Now that you've caught up, let's get started, shall we?"

"Uh, yes, please," said Ginny, remembering her manners. "Do have a seat."

Balinda sat quickly, choosing a squishy looking arm chair. Draco, however, cocked a pale eyebrow at Ginny and waited. To the untrained eye, it would have appeared courteous, but Ginny knew just how stubborn he was. A small, perhaps childish part of her wanted to test him, to cock her eyebrow and see how long they could wait, but a more logical voice told her the sooner she sat, the sooner the interview would be over, and the sooner the two could leave. Nothing good would come of squaring off against Malfoy. She must remain professional. This was the Daily Prophet. Even more than that, she must remain charming.

Ginny took her place on the couch, closest to Balinda and Draco followed suit, taking a picture of her wincing, before sitting on the opposite side.

Ginny's head swam in the bright flash. Balinda hardly noticed as she fiddled with her charmed quill in preparation. "So, Ms. Weasley-"

"Please," Ginny smiled, "Ms. Weasley's my father."

Balinda laughed a smarmy little chuckle. "Alright, then, Ginny. We've heard from several sources that you were severely injured in your last match."

"'Severely' is a bit relative, I suppose, but I fractured two ribs on my left side."

Draco snapped another picture as she gingerly touched her side.

"It was severe enough that you decided on natural healing, am I right?" The quill scribbled fast across the parchment as Balinda looked on with sympathetic eyes.

"It wasn't a clean break," Ginny explained, "which made the healers a bit weary of charmed healing, and when they told me that, I decided we better not try it. My health is very important to me and I wouldn't want to risk my career."

"And what about Skelegrow?"

"When I was fourteen, I broke my ankle in the war-" she resisted the temptation to shoot a glare at Draco "and had to take Skelegrow. While it worked, it also gave me muscle spasms for several months. No one likes a twitchy Chaser."

Laughing brazenly, Balinda nodded. Even her movements were dramatically emphasized. "Too true! Tell us more about that game, would you?"

Now that, she could do. She didn't have to worry about being witty or professional, Ginny could talk Quidditch until she was blue in the face.

"We were playing Puddlemere United, which is always quite an eventful match – you recall the Ilkley Moor riots, just two years ago, I'm sure. Well, it was quite the competition and the stakes are high. I mean, they are really giving Gwen a run, and she's been taking bludger after bludger all game. I'm about to score a goal, right, and while Gwen has a go with one of their beaters, the other lobs a bludger straight for me. It hits me hard, nearly knocks me off my broom. I can hardly breathe, but I still made that goal. Oliver Wood was none too happy after that one."

She was so caught up in the details, she hardly noticed her picture being taken.

"There's been talk of foul play. Where do you stand on those allegations?"

"Gwen's looking into it, but honestly, I think that's just how Quidditch is played. Heated moments, sure, but nothing intentional. There's just too much respect for the game."

"Now, you mentioned Oliver Wood? He used to be a keeper for the Gryffindor team, isn't that right? Have you worked with him before?"

"I sadly never had a chance to play with him. I didn't try out until Oliver had left and Harry was captain."

Balinda's face changed suddenly. A glitter in her eye suggested that her excitement was genuine. "Speaking of Harry Potter, how is that relationship going?"

Ginny blushed. She was keenly aware of that picture being taken.

"Oh, Harry and I are friends. That's all we've ever been." Draco snorted and Ginny couldn't help but glare at him now. Stay professional, she had to remind herself. "Our schedules are just too full for any sort of romantic relationship. He's going through auror training, right now, along with my brother and our friend, Neville."

The brunette's eyes flashed a bit mischievously. "But your schedule will be opening up more now, isn't that correct?"

Ginny forced a small chuckle. "Never say never, I suppose. But I do plan to stay busy. Hopefully, I'll get my physical therapy started in the next two weeks, and with any luck, I should be back on the field in time for the Cup."

"Assuming the Holyhead Harpies make it to the Cup without you?"

"That's flattering, but Maria Monteith, an Australian Chaser, will be my replacement until I return, and myself and the Harpies have the upmost faith in her."

"Well," said Balinda, her quill now slowing its once-frenzied pace, "I think that about covers it. Mind if I use your bathroom before we Floo out?"

Ginny was a little unsettled by the idea of this woman poking around her house, unaccompanied, and was even more uneasy to be left alone with Draco Malfoy, but she stood up slowly, pointing towards her office. "There's a powder room right through there."

"Don't you have a clean wall in your house?" asked Malfoy suddenly, after Balinda had left the room.

Ginny turned to find him eyeing Luna's dream catcher surreptitiously. "How do you mean?"

"I'd like to get a good picture of your injury, but I'd prefer a more..." Draco chose his words carefully, "simple background."

"There should be a blank wall in my bedroom?" she offered, pointing down a long hall.

He stood and nodded in that direction. "Lead the way."

Draco followed the girl into her room, musing how familiar the situation as she peeled her shirt over her head. But the red hair, the vast expanse of freckles across the small of her back were so foreign, he snapped a picture. "Y'know," he told her, winding the film, "green is more fitting on you than red ever was."

"Shut up," she snapped, tossing her shirt on the bed. Her cheeks flashed a deep pink and Draco noticed a matching blush sprawled across her stomach.

He took picture after picture of Ginny, zooming in on her bruising or circling around her. "Face the front," he ordered. "Now profile."

A knock rapped sharply on her door. "About done?" Balinda called.

"Yeah," Draco said, "I'll be out in one second."

Ginny grunted softly as she stretched across the bed for her shirt. Her words came out pained. "It certainly was... something, seeing you again, Malfoy."

"Well, bask in it," he told her on his way out, "because I don't plan on making it a common occurrence."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a version of this for ffnet a while back. I thought I'd bring it out of storage and dust it off. I'm sorry for the slow start, but I have big plans for this story and I want to make it as realistic as possible. That being said, for the purpose of the story, I needed Ginny to not heal magically. I'll go into more detail in her interview but for now, I hope you can suspend your disbelief. Thank you so much for reading!


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